


The Once and Future Thing

by melxncholly



Series: Jason Todd Birthday Week 2018 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bruce is an okay parent, But they're trying to be better, Could be post RHATO #25, Dick is protective over Terry, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Gen, Implied Dick Grayson/Mary McGinnis, Jason Birthday Week 2018, dick is a dick, its not rlly mentioned in the story but it’s important to me that u kno tht, terry is half korean on his moms side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melxncholly/pseuds/melxncholly
Summary: The Red Hood hasn't been seen in Gotham in twenty years. A lot has changed, including a new Batman.But Batman is seventeen, and Jason feels like he should warn him, for whatever reason, the kind of toll this jobs takes.Being stubborn seems to run in the family, whats a guy to do?Jason Birthday Week day 2: Dream Team UpUPDATE6/9/19, went in and edited some things/rewrote some stuff, so check it out again if you'd like!





	The Once and Future Thing

**Author's Note:**

> the title was borrowed from the episode of justice league unlimited; the once and future thing. its a personal favorite of mine, only because i so adore my son terry.
> 
> and the IDEAL batman beyond look is his design in mother panic, minus uh, everything about mother panic, including that characterization
> 
> its implied in the fic its post rhato 25, tho i havent read it myself and only have seen bits and pieces, but u can do what u will with that
> 
> jason sort of menors terry and im a fan of it
> 
> i also finished this at 1 am we love never finishing fics on time for deadlines hHAA
> 
> for fics sake the ages are like so
> 
> terry: 17  
> jason: 45  
> dick: 52  
> bruce: early 70s

The years have been kind to Gotham. Instead of a sprawling, dirty city rifled with crime, it was now a shining utopia. The city of the future, free of crime.

Unless, of course, you counted the undercity, old Gotham where new Gotham was built over. The ‘Historic’ District, where old apartment buildings still stood, homeless and other ‘undesirables’ finding shelter in the old Gotham buildings.

Red Hood scoffed, shaking his head as he looked over the city. Shoving gloved hands into his pockets he looked over the edge of the building he stood on. It had been years since he had last been in Gotham, that ugly final fight with his ‘father’ all but kicking him out from his home.

It didn’t matter, Jason was not there to reminisce. He had a job to do.

Shooting his grapple, the man was flying off and into the night.

* * *

 

Terry yawned, raking a hand though his dark hair before pulling his cowl back on. The city was quiet tonight, and Terry was bored. Max had already gone to bed, leaving Terry alone and with the two voices arguing in his ear.

Swinging his legs, Terry listened to his mentors fighting. He was half tempted to throw himself off the building for a freefall, if only to give one of them a scare. He laughed at the thought, and winced as Wayne’s voice boomed in his ear.

_‘McGinnis are you even listening?’_

“Yeah yeah.” Terry sighs, and rubs his hands together as he stood. “I’m listening, but like I told you, nothings happening.”

‘ _You can never be too careful._ ’ Bruce speaks, and Terry can just see him typing away at his computer looking for _something_ for Terry to do. ‘ _It’s been quiet so far but-_ ’

‘ _Bruce!’_ It was Mr. Grayson now, and he winced at the sounds in his comms. ‘ _Give the kid a break! It’s a school night and he’s been out there since sundown, let him come back early._ ’

“It’s fine Mr. Grayson.” The teen stifles a yawn, but he was right. Being out there, being Batman, it’s all Terry could ever want.

“It wouldn’t hurt to do another scan of the city before calling it a night. After all, anything could happen.”

‘ _Good_ .’ Bruce’s voice sounds in his ear. ‘ _Because the silent alarm just went off in the Gotham Historical Theater. I suggest you get there before the GCPD does.’_

‘ _Sounds like something worth checking out.’_ Terry grunts out an affirmation, stretching his limbs before letting himself jump.

“On it.” Batman speaks, and flies out into the night.

* * *

 

The voices in his comms are quiet for once as he flies through the city. It’s peaceful being up there, looking over it. It’s very beautiful, in it’s own way, to see the lights of the city fly past as he glides. It feels right to be up there, natural, like Terry was always meant for this.

It isn’t long until the Gotham Theater comes into view. It’s a beautiful building, stuck in the past as its remained unchanged over the long years. No work done to it, other than the renovations made to keep it standing.

It was personally funded by Bruce Wayne, productions of every kind backed by him.

“I have a love of the arts.” Bruce had said once, when Terry asked him about it, and said nothing else on it.

He wasn’t sure why though, Terry knew how his folks had passed, died after leaving that very same place. It's something that he can't imagine why Wayne kept pouring money into it. If it has been Terry's own parents he had watched die, in that very same alley, well, he'd have wanted to tear it down.

“It was important to someone close to him.” Dick had said, with a far off look in his eye when Terry had asked him. 

It left him with more questions than he had answers to.

He touches down on the roof, and activates the cloak on his suit. He slips into the building through the roof access, quietly making his way down, down, down. The building was old, creaking as it settled, and it only put him on edge.

The place is dark, and quiet, with only the mice as company. The moon makes shadows on the walls, where light can get to, and it feels like eyes follow him as he moves, despite his assurance that he cannot be seen. When he was younger, he half believed the place to be haunted, it’s unsettling view always making him scared. He could only imagine the ghosts who still haunted this place, forever lost in time.

It was eerie.

_Round the corner is backstage, and then I can get to-_

"FUCK-" The mannequin is on him suddenly, and he involuntarily jumps.

_'McGinnis! What happened-'_   Wayne is yelling in his ear, and he catches his breath before even thinking of responding. 

"Just got spooked by a dummy." He flicks it in the head, the figure rocking slightly before settling again, and Terry makes his way around it.

The backstage is littered with props. Half made set designs left leaning against walls, along with costumes sat on mannequins, the period piece clothes giving the room more of a haunted look than it needed. 

"Creepy." He huffs, and deactivates his suit, the natural black blending seamlessly in with the darkness of the room.

His steps are careful as he makes his way to the stage. He slips through the ornate red and gold trimmed curtains, the stage opens up to him the vast ocean of chairs. He and Bruce had been there more than once, in the top row to enjoy various different productions.

It was one of the things Terry liked most about his day job. Being Bruce's personal assistant and Batman both blended together at the best of times, but he liked it best when it was just them two, enjoying each other's company. 

Bruce was always so lonely, and as much as he loved Mr. Grayson, he didn't think he'd forgive him all that easily, for abandoning Bruce for so long.

_'What do you see McGinnis.'_   Bruce’s voice is insistent as he speaks, and Terry Huffs/

“Nothing.” Relaxing only slightly. “There’s no one even here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong kiddo.” Bruce’s voice dies in his ear as the lights turn on all at once.

He freezes as a figure comes into view, sitting in one of the chairs in the way back. Terry is ready in an instant, mentally cursing himself for not being more careful, for not casing the place better. 

The stranger however takes his sweet time in standing, making Terry wait on him. He brushes dust from his pants, and walks leisurely towards the stage, taking his time, keeping Terry on defense as he readies himself for an attack.

The helmet he wears reflects the light, and the brown leather jacket he wears looks well worn and well loved. His stance is casual, like he'd be anyone you met out in the city, aside from the pistols holstered to him, and the knife strapped to his thigh.

“What did you do.” Terry demands, batarang in his hand as the stranger watches his from across the stage.

“Neat right.”  He looks around the theater, taking in all the details of the grand stage. “It’s amazing what money can buy to block out all the fun tech you got. _If_ you know where to look.”

 The eyes of his cowl narrow, and the man heaves a sigh, like Terry is somehow inconveniencing him.

“Oh calm down batbrat.” He says, and lifts his hands to remove his helmet. There’s a hissing where the locks of his helmet disengage, and he lifts it off, tucking it underneath his arm.

He’s older than Terry thought, but younger than Mr. Grayson. He's handsome, someone the girls in his school would swoon over if he was an actor. His dark hair is all pushed back, greying at the temples aside from the unnatural white streak down the middle. His stubble makes him look more world weary and rugged than anything, and Terry idly imagines that he uses that knife of his to shave in the morning than an actual razor. The tan of his skin contrasts with the bright white of his scars, and his bright green eyes seem to see right through him. He knows, Terry thinks, that Batman isn't all people think of him. 

And despite it all, despite never having met this man in his life, he looks familiar. Like Terry has seen him before, he just doesn't know where.

“Should I know you.” He says, lowering the batarangs in his hand only slightly.

There’s a brief flash of hurt on the mans face, only for a moment before he schools it into a grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It figures,” he says, taking a step forward. “That the old man wouldn’t talk about me.” He’s standing in front of Terry, and the teenager has to crane his head up to look him in the face.

“I’m the _bad_ Robin no one likes to talk about.”

Terry sucks in a breath. He remembers now, where he’s seen him. Years younger, in a picture on Bruce’s dresser. Dozens of pictures, of his kids, his family that doesn’t _visit_ him any more.

But mostly of _him_.

“Jason.”

* * *

It takes him too long to reach the theater. Dick's sure he's broken at least three traffic laws in his rush to get there, and his back aches in a way that urges him to slow down. He's not young, not anymore, but Terry could be hurt or worse, and that thought scares Dick to his very core. 

He did not hesitate to rush out of the manor when he and Bruce were cut off from Terry, and Dick just wishes that it wasn't a mistake. That it was the right choice to train Terry, to send him off as Batman. Every instinct he has is telling him it was, and he desperately wants to be proven wrong.

Dick cannot have the blood of children on his mind, or the guilt of their deaths. Not anymore. He couldn't live with it.

He winces as he makes his way through the ornate doors, through the empty lobby. He was no longer Nightwing, has not been for many years, but if he could help Terry, if he was still alive, he would.

The double doors that lead towards the theater room and stage swing open through the force of Dick's push, and he can see them, see Terry, just, standing there.

Not fighting, not doing anything, but standing, and talking, with  _him_.

After all this time, all these years with no contact, nothing on his end…

_“ Jason! ”_  

He comes back.

Dick knows he’s not an intimidating sight, dressed in an old black training suit and his old domino. He can see the grimace on Jason’s face as the man, no longer the boy Dick remembered, pulls his helmet back on.

“Remember what I said kid.” Jason says before taking off, leaving Terry with a pat on the shoulder, before darting off behind the curtains. Terry makes no move to go after him, but Dick does.

He's barely up the stage when Terry stops him, and the knowledge of how old and slow he really is hits him.

“Let him go.” Terry says. His voice sounds… sad. Strained.

Dick can't even get out  _Are you alright?_ before Terry stops him with a shake of his head.

"I'm okay Dick," the tone of his voice, makes Dick frown where he stands. "Let's just get out of here."

* * *

The safehouse is an old one, left over from when he still worked with the Bats. Dust caked everything, his couch, bed, tables and counters, and Jason was half positive that a new species had gained sentience in his fridge, with how expired the food he had left in there was. The smart idea would be to just throw the whole thing away, and if Jason was going to stay there any longer, a new fridge was going to be his first purchase.

The one little blessing was the still fully stocked armory he kept, discretely disguised as a hall closet.

The Bat had not found this safe house. It was the little mercies, after all. 

Ignoring the dust of his couch, Jason laid himself down on it, groaning as his joints and bones settled. His water battle laid abandoned at his side, more likely to get lost between the couch cushions at some point in the night.

That Terry was something else.

Jason had seen pictures of him, the teen a dead ringer of Bruce when the old man had been the same age. There were obvious differences, yes, but otherwise the similarities were uncanny.

But the similarities to Bruce isn't what had got him. It was how he acted, once he realized who Jason  _really_ was. It was like day and night.

_You’re_ _Jason! Jason Todd!_ ” He spoke, like Jason was someone important of all things. Like he had actually meant something once, instead of a disappointment.

He had huffed, sticking his hands in his pockets. _“Now where oh where did you hear that? Don't tell me the old man talks about me?"_

The silence on Terry’s end was all he needed.

_“That fucking figures_ .” Jason didn’t know where the hurt in his voice was coming from, but he didn’t care. _“That’s not why I’m here anyways.”_

 The boy stayed silent as he watched Jason, the white lenses of his cowl never leaving his figure as he waited for the man to speak.

_“You should get out now,”_ He warned. _“While you still can_.”

Even with the full cowl on Jason could see he confusion written in the kids features.

_“What are you talking about._ ” He said, and Jason had refused the urge to shake him. He was a kid, like Jason used to be. He didn’t deserve this life.

_“This… job._ ” Jason said, his hand messing up his slicked back hair. _“It’ll kill you. Trust me, I know_ .” And Jason did. He died too young, was revived by some cosmic _mistake_ and even his own dad didn’t want him back. After Jason had tried, so hard. He didn’t care though, not anymore. That's what he told himself.

Terry on the other hand did not look convinced. _“But I want to be doing this, if I didn’t I would have left._ ”

Jason couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, and in hindsight, it seemed kind of rude.

_“That’s what you think kid! What are you, like, fifteen?”_

_“I’m seventeen_.” Jason had waved him off, the age didn't really matter, not when you had the big picture to look at.

_“That’s a lot younger than me! You’re still living your teenage years! I never got to!”_ Jason doesn’t realize his voice is raising as he steps towards Terry, who holds his ground.

_“I was twelve when Bruce made me Robin! I was fucking fifteen when I died! I’m in my god damn forties with no hope of a normal fucking life because this!”_ He gestured to himself. _“This is what Bruce turns you into!”_

It was supposed to be a grim look into Terry's future, but he looked no more convinced than when Jason had started speaking.

 

_“You…_ ” He pauses, takes his time to find his words as he speaks. The white lenses of the cowl meets Jason's green. Defiant, even when met with a man who was stronger, smarted, more powerful than him. Jason could see what Bruce saw in Terry.  _“You could stop if you wanted to. What’s stopping you? You don’t owe Bruce a thing. You could make a new life for yourself if you wanted._ ”

He was right, but Jason still rolled his eyes, put his helmet back on. An effort to hide his face, protect himself, so that Terry couldn't look into his eyes and tell him it was  _his fault_.

_“What I think is… you like helping people. You want to make Wayne proud of you, because you miss him-”_

_“Stop.”_ Jason says. The kid is fucking seventeen, Jason’s not sure how he’s getting in under his skin.

_“And I know Wayne misses you too.”_ Terry continued, and Jason barked out a laugh.

_“That’s bullshit kid. Bruce doesn’t miss me._ ”

_“He does_ .” The kid was either brave, or incredibly stupid. Maybe both. _“He’s an emotionally constipated jerk, but he misses you even if he doesn’t try to show it. All of you_.”

All of them? That had caught Jason’s attention, but it didn’t matter. Jason didn’t matter to Bruce. He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

_“Don’t laugh!”_ The kid actually sounded offended on Bruce’s part. _“I’m in that big empty house all the time, and he’s all alone! No visitors, no friends, I only got Mr. Grayson to start coming around and only on the excuse to help train me!”_

That caught his attention too. If Dick had abandoned Bruce, then who else did too. Hard to imagine any of them leaving.

_“Sounds like a Bruce problem to me kid._ ” Jason said, facing Terry again.

_“He’s old_.” And boy, he was still trying. _“He knows he messed up, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s not too late to try-_ ” Terry didn’t get to finish speaking, interrupted by the Golden boy himself.

And Jason left, before a fight could break out between them.

Scoffing, he mad himself comfortable on his couch. As if Dick could do anything, with that twenty year old bullet lodged in his spine and one eye.

No, he was just there to make sure the big bad Red Hood didn’t hurt their _precious_ protege. So what if the kid didn’t listen to him. Jason didn’t care.

The lies, one tells themselves, to help them cope. Jason had enough to fill volumes.

* * *

 

His fridge got a proper send off on the sidewalk. Most of Jason's day had ended up with cleaning the safe house, and then a trip to the store for a new fridge, and finally, a trip to the supermarket. The ShopRite that had been there when Jason was a boy had been torn down and replaced with something new, and he ignored the pain on how everything in his city had changed.

He refused to think about the teenager he had met the night before, and tried to convince himself that he didn't care whether Terry had listened to him or not.

Because he didn’t.

He went through the end of his day, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he debated between iceburg and romaine lettuce, stubbornly refusing to think about anything involving Bats and Bruce and the nightlife of Gotham.

He just, wasn't expecting the kid to actually come and  _find_ him.

Terry cornered him in the produce aisle, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest as he stared up Jason, defiance written on his features.

He narrowed his eyes at him, and honestly, he looked a lot more like Bruce in person. A bit smaller, a bit more lithe, but all the same, Bruce where it counted. His friend lingered behind him, her bright pink hair a lovely contrast to her dark skin. She looked more alarmed, standing in front of who she probably knew to be a criminal, at least in the Batman’s books.

“I’m just… gonna go get some snacks Ter.” She said, before taking off down an aisle of the supermarket.

Jason watched her go, before he turned his glare back to the teenager.

“What do you want kid.”

Terry’s posture was confident, a bright smile on his face as he looked Jason over, like he was sizing him up.

“I want you to train me.”

Jason choked on his own spit. “Excuse me?”

Terry's face was smug as he stared back at Jason, a grin on his face.

“I want you to train me. Wayne and Grayson are trying to take it easy on me, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t.” Blue eyes bore into Jason’s green, and the thought of it just makes Jason want to vomit.

No, he would not be responsible for this kid. Absolutely not.

He wouldn't be responsible for a boys death.

Ignoring Terry, Jason pushes his cart past him towards the self check out.

“Hey!” The kid calls after him, and Jason knows Terry's stubbornly following behind him.

_'No_ ' is what he should say. “How’d you even find me anyways.” Is what Jason says instead, grabbing a case of beer as he pushes his cart along.

“You probably won’t believe this but, completely by accident.” Is Terry’s own reply. Jason snorts, glancing over at him.

“Really?”

“Yep- so about training me…”

Jason huffs, and pushes his cart into the checkout, only to begin the slow process of scanning his items through.

“No. Absolutely not.” He’d fuck him up. It was better if he just got out of this business, went back to being a teenager.

“Why not?” Terry asks, and starts bagging his food for him, like it’s any help to Jason at all.

“Because I said no.” How hard was it to understand? Jason curses, the boxed mac and cheese isn’t scanning and Alfred would hate to see all the _junk_ he was buying.

It hits him, suddenly. Alfred’s dead. Jason never got to say goodbye, and if that doesn’t leave a lump in his throat.

Terry’s still talking, blind to the inner panic that’s working itself through Jason.

“...and if you think I’m gonna be in so much danger, shouldn’t you train me? I mean, it makes sense to me-”

Jason cuts him off, his voice low. Subconsciously, the pit calls to him, even after all these years.

“Kid, leave me the _fuck_ alone before I kill you myself.”

That gives Terry some pause, and he’s quiet as Jason dumps the rest of his junk in the plastic bags.

He watches Jason leave, making no move to even stop him.

The night is different. Jason doesn’t even know why he’s still in Gotham. Maybe some outdated sense of responsibility to the city that hated him. Maybe he just wanted to come home.

Whatever it was, it clear that this was Batman’s city still.

An explosion sounded in the distance, and Jason grinned under his helmet, swinging through the night towards it.

Gotham was different now, the taller buildings and sky bridges making it difficult to maneuver through. Not to mention the sky cars that nearly hit Jason constantly. He missed so much in his time away, but however different Gotham was, if you rubbed the chrome away, the same dirty city would be found underneath.

He lands on on of the sky buildings, a figure in a sea of civilians, all looking out into the distance. One of the white, pristine buildings was on fire, multiple explosions from inside the building rocking it. Another explosion from atop the building rocked it, and a black figure was blown out into the open, falling, falling…

Terry wasn’t moving.

There was multiple murmurs and gasps from the onlookers, and Jason sprung into action. Firing his grapple, he flew towards Terry who fell past him. Disengaging the grapple, he dove down to free fall towards the teenager, grabbing his arm in the nick of time before firing his line off again. The two fell to safety, skidding onto the street, Terry tucked securely in Jason’s arms.

He dragged the kid off the street, and into the alley before propping him up against the wall. Tearing off the cowl, the kid looked bad. Beaten halfway to Sunday, his nose was bleeding, and he had a black eye already rearing it’s ugly head.

“Terry- kid, come on wake up.” Jason’s heart was hammering in his chest, and he shook the kid a little, giving his face a few gentle pats.

Terry’s eyes opened a fraction, and the boy just mumbles something under his breath, before his eyes slip close again. Jason does not hesitate. He springs into action, lifting the teenager into a carry. He's careful with him, making sure not to jostle Terry too badly as he makes his way to some cars. It doesn't take long for Jason to hot wire one, and once Terry was securely placed in the back seat, they're off, driving towards the manor.

_This was going to be a disaster._

The drive was quiet, save for Terry's uneven breathing. Traffic was sparse, letting Jason to be able to speed through the streets and towards his destination with relative ease. Terry murmured to himself in his , and Jason resisted the urge to shake the kid for being an idiot. What was he thinking, Jason didn't know. The kid was impulsive, rude, he reminded him of Jason himself.

He refused to think more on it as he drove the rest of the way to the manor.

Wayne Manor had always spooked Jason as a boy. There was something about it, from how imposing look of it, to the haunting interior. It was  _home_ though, and Jason loved wandering the halls. Loved looking at the ornate decorations of the woodwork, sitting with Alfred in the kitchen as he cooked. When he was feeling childish enough, he used to pretend he was a Prince, and that Wayne Manor was a castle.

It wasn't any easier to be faced with his reality as he was a child.

But even though the manor had been imposing then, it was always taken care of. To see it now was heart breaking. The manor was dark, save for one light on the second floor. The gate was already open, inviting Jason to drive through. Over grown grass and wild flowers made a sea of brown and green on the front lawn, and the tire swing he had used to play on was broken, the rope rotted through.

Jason refused to think about the sorry state of what Alfred’s garden had to be like. 

He stopped at the front door, grabbing Terry from the backseat and carrying him up the stairs, cradling the boy in his arms. The door burst open before Jason could even attempt to open it, Dick was there, looking like a panicked father.

_“ Terry- ”_  Dick's voice broke as he carefully took Terry from Jason's arms. He held him close, careful not to drop him and maneuver his way inside at the same time.

“Dick let me-” Jason started, but the look Dick gave him made Jason pause. The door shut, leaving Jason standing there alone.

* * *

“Where’s Jason…”

Dick's head shot up from where he sat next to Terry, and he could almost cry at the joy of seeing him, sitting up and alive.

“He brought you here- are you alright Terry?” Dick asks, handing the boy a glass of water. The boy chugged it, droplets rolling down his chin and into his bandages wrapped around his chest.

He swung his legs over the side of the cot, and Dick stood beside him, hands hovering around Terry as he struggled to get up and onto his feet. He swayed a few times before getting his balance, and weary blue eyes fell to Dick's own.

“Where _is_ he Dick?” Terry asked, blue eyes staring up at him and Dick swallowed. He felt… guilty, for slamming the door in his brother- in Jason’s face. But his worry over Terry, mixed with his anger at Jason just overtook him.

 It didn't make sense, it didn't make Dick feel any better. 

“He didn’t stay Ter, he went home.” The boy raised an eyebrow at him, and Dick helped him into the computer chair.

He shrugged on an old sweatshirt, one of Dick's from when he was young, and stared at the computer. The cowls footage had caught everything- up until he got blown out of the building by Mad Stan.

“That was dangerous Terry- you could have died.” Terry didn’t answer, his eyes staring blankly ahead. The boy was lost in thought, and Dick sighed.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed and I’ll drive you home-”

“Why do you hate Jason?” Terry’s question hit Dick like a pound of bricks, and he winced.

“I don't hate him- and it's not that simple, our relationship-"

“Why. You’re brothers aren’t you?” Terry’s blue eyes bore holes into Dick, and he eased himself against the computer console.

“Jason... did something, years ago, he put us all in danger and-”

“And you disown him?” The look Terry gives him makes Dick pause. He looks angry, and he has a right to be, but Terry wasn't alive then. He has no idea what had happened, with them, with Penguin-

“Terry…” Dick starts, but the kid is having none of it.

“He made a mistake, and you kick him out of your family? Maybe I should go too- since you know, I’m _also_ a convicted criminal-”

“Terry juvie isn’t anything _like_ what Jason did-”

“But I could have turned out like him, it’d have been easy _Dick_.” The way Terry says his name makes it feel like an insult. Like how Jason used to.

Dick was not ignorant to Terry and Jason's similarities. Any time Dick looked at him, he was reminded of his brother. How Terry could have so easily been like Jason as a child, if he did not have the same support systems. But Terry had his mother, his brother, his father- once. Jason had no one, and didn't that thought  _hurt_. That maybe, if Dick was around enough, he could have changed things, could have helped, could have maybe, stopped Jason from leaving-

The teenager scoffs, pulling himself up. He doesn't wait for Dick as he makes his way up the stairs, pausing only to let Bruce walk by. The older man looks to his protege, and then to Dick.

“I think I’ll walk home- thanks for the offer.” Terry says, before leaving, not even sparing the two a glance.

Bruce is slow as he makes his way over, all but collapsing in the chair and Dick's quiet as he watches Bruce. The man is silent as he watches over the footage of Terry's fight.

"Do you think..." Dick starts off slowly. "That we made a mistake with Jason."

Bruce is quiet, and Dick is about to ask again when his father speaks.

"I think... I think I've made mistakes with all of you." Bruce says. "I shouldn't have forced any of you into this. I should I watched you better, to make sure you didn't get hurt." Dick winces, a hand coming up to prod at the eye patch that covers his missing eye.

"I think I shouldn't have hurt Jason the way I did. There's nothing I can say to make it right again. I was angry, so much had happened and I took it out on my  _son_." Bruce's voice cracks, and Dick sighs, his eyes roaming towards the suit cases. All their old suits, preserved from a time long ago. 

Jason's still in the memorial case, like he was still dead, instead of a living breathing man, who had returned to them so long ago.

"I found him." Dick starts. "After he left Gotham. He was a mess, and it was shitty of me but I came when Roy left to run somewhere, I think he was picking something up. I chewed him out, I yelled, he threw punches and I threw them back." He can still remember the tears and blood on his brothers face as Dick screamed at him. It was wrong, but he had felt so hurt, so betrayed. After how much Jason did to try and fit in with the family, he repays them by killing in broad daylight for what? The dramatics of it?

"And then not even a month later I got shot and... we stopped talking." Dick brushes the hair from his face, and looks to Bruce. He had been so angry, and blamed it on his father. He had spent so long not speaking to him. 

 So much time, lost.

"We're a real messed up family aren't we." Dick says, and Bruce nods.

* * *

Terry’s not out the next night, or the night after, so Jason picks up the slack for him. He brings in ‘Mad Stan’ the one who set the bombs, and briefly makes contact with Commissioner Gordon. Barbara looks good for fifty-three, and Jason’s genuinely happy for her.

He meets Terry a week later on the roof of now Wayne Enterprises. Power’s name is gone from the logo, something Jason knows Bruce must be ecstatic about.

“Dick told me you saved me.” Terry says. His cowl is off, black hair blowing in the wind. He’s sitting, legs swinging over the side of the building and it reminds Jason of himself, a few years younger and in a red and yellow suit, ready to fly.

He sits besides him, and places his helmet to the side. They’re both quiet as they look over the city, the traffic loud enough to reach them up there.

“I wouldn’t say saved, more like, dragged your still living corpse to the Manor.” He lights up a cigarette and takes in a deep drag, before Terry snatches it from his hand and does the same.

“Hey-” Jason reprimands, but there’s no heat in it as he takes it back. “Aren’t you too young for this.”

Terry snorts, shrugging. “Aren’t you too old to be, I dunno, doing this.” He gestures to the hood, and Jason’s get up.

“But seriously man,” Terry starts, and his face is so much more open without the cowl. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and Jason could relate. He was the kid who was desperate for approval too, once upon a time. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Jason shrugs again, taking another drag of his cigarette and hands it to Terry. They sit like that, swapping it back and forth, sitting in the quiet of the night.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jason finally says, stubbing it out of the rooftop. “About what you said the other day.”

“Oh?” A brow shoots up as Terry looks at him, barely hiding the smile on his face. “And… what do you think?”

“I think you’re sloppy.” Jason starts, and Terry looks a bit sheepish. “Uncoordinated, immature, a bit of a brat.” Jason snickers at the shove Terry gives him, and he smiles. “But, you have heart. You have promise. You’re good, even for a fourteen year old.”

“Hey-” Terry starts, and Jason stands, patting the kids head.

“We can start training tomorrow. Here, midnight. Got it.”

Terry nods an affirmative, and Jason looks out, over the city, before looking back at him.

"I'm not going to go easy on you." He says, and the smile Terry gives him warms something in Jason’s chest. For the first time in a long time, he's not exactly happy, but he's feeling something like it.

“Thank you Jason.” Terry says, picking his cowl up with him as he stands.

“Be safe kid.” Jason says, and Terry laughs, pulling the mask on.

“I’m always safe.” And he's falling backwards off the building. It’s a heart stopping moment for Jason, sure that Terry would keep falling, falling, until he hears the sound of the jet boots power on, and Terry takes off into the night.

Jason pulls on his helmet, eyes distant.

He has one more place to be.

* * *

Ace slept at Bruce’s feet, out cold as Bruce sat alone in his study. Dick had banished him out from the cave shortly after Terry had left for patrol, and it had been good, to see the boy back on his feet. Not too thrilled at being kicked from his own cave, but at his age, he had to take what he could.

His son was awfully protective of him, and Bruce could understand, mostly because he felt the same. Though, it may had also had something to do with the apparent time Dick spent with Terry's mother. Bruce wasn't surprised to see both his son and protege spending time together, given their work, but he was surprised to hear the sudden development with their personal lives.

But he was happy, for both of them. Dick deserved to be happy with someone who loved him, and Terry and Matthew deserved a father, something Bruce knew Dick was all too capable of doing.

At his feet, Ace stirred, and Bruce watched the dog growl at the closed door. It inched open, and Ace stood, ready to attack.

“Down boy.” Bruce said, patting the dogs head who looks at the intruder back to his master. He sat, keen eyes never leaving.

“Jason.” Bruce said, and there was his son, standing in the doorway, helmet in his hands as he shifted on his feet. It took Bruce back years, to where Jason was smaller, standing in the door way while Bruce worked, just waiting to be invited in. They had spent many afternoons like that, Jason lounging in the study chairs, reading his books while Bruce worked.

"Please, sit." He gestured to one of the chairs, and Jason accepts, moving his way to sit across from him.

“Hey.” Jason looks so much older, and it hits Bruce that he’s missed it again. Missed his boy growing up. He’s done this, it was his fault that Jason left.

The silence is heavy, and they stay like that, for a moment. Just sitting with each other, the moon casting shadows on their faces.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce says, and Jason looks at him, confusion written on his features. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I drove you away.”

Jason sucks in a breath, and really looks at Bruce. At the wrinkles over his features, the grey hair, the reading glasses tucked into his shirt pocket. He’s old, and never in his life did Jason even think that Bruce Wayne could get old.

“I. I did that though. I _shot_ Penguin, because I was so angry, and so-so…” It was so long ago, he can’t even find the words for it. Jason remember’s why of course, the anger he felt, the letters he had. So many things had happened. And then, Bruce. At the end of it was always Bruce, beating him like one of his rogues.

_Harder_ than his rogues, and it hurt. It hurt worse than when he had died.

Jason was angry for so long, and then, regretful.

Bruce was too.

“I’m going to be training Terry.” Jason says, blurting it out all at once. Bruce nods, settling in his chair.

“He’d like that. Dick and I are-”

“Too soft on him. He told me.” Jason laughs, and Bruce cracks a smile.

“Sounds like him.” He says, hand idly petting the top of Ace’s head.

“He’s a good kid. I can tell you care about him.”

Bruce nods, but his eyes are distant. “I’ve failed so much with you. All of you. I’ve made… so many mistakes. I don’t want to fail Terry.”

“I…” Jason’s voice is soft, and he’s scared. Of what he wants to say. What he wants to offer. “Can we. Can we try again.” He says, and braces himself for the refusal.

The quiet kills him, and Jason risks looking at Bruce’s face. The mans eyes are shiny, and it seems like Bruce has gotten soft in his old age too.

“Of course Jaylad. I’ve missed you.” Jason swallows the lump in his throat, and reaches over, taking Bruce’s hand in his.

“I missed you too dad.”

He's not sure if he could ever truly forgive Bruce, for what had happened, for the lost time. But he could try.

Jason owes it to himself to try.

* * *

  _'_ _Terry, slow down or you’ll crash-_ ’ Dick’s voice sounds in their comms, and Jason groans loudly.

“Shove it Dickhead, he’s doing fine-” Is what Jason says, but he's thankful the man isn't hear to see how hard he is gripping the seats, or the grin on Terry's face as he drives the hijacked truck.

Hijacked from arms dealers, but Terry was still driving, which was maybe even more dangerous than armed men chasing them.

The teenager practically cackles, and Jason can hear Max in their comms too. He rolls his eyes, and leans out the window, shooting his pistol at the tires of the men driving after them. Thank God for good old cheap trucks, none of the new hover cars that were popular nowadays.

“We’re doing _fine_ Dick. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a date anyways? With my _mom_?” Terry says, cutting a sharp left that nearly throws Jason out of the vehicle.

“Fucking _watch it_ Terry!” Jason curses, and the boy lets out a non apologetic sorry. Kids these days.

The harbor comes into view, and Jason doesn’t have to see the grin Terry is sporting. He hits the gas, and the two jump from the car right as if drives into the harbor.

The dealers trucks screech to a stop behind them, and Jason stands, stretching his back out.

“Ready to throw the hurt down kid?” Jason asks, and Terry cracks his knuckles next to him.

“You know it old man.” He responds.

_‘Don’t put too many in the ER this time,'_   Bruce’s voice reprimands from the comms, _‘We still need to know who their supplier is._ ’

“Got it Wayne.” Terry says, and he’s in full Batman mode. Jason smiles to himself. The past few months had been hard, coming to terms with old traumas and teaching the kid, but it was worth it.

Going on patrol again, partnering with the kid? Jason wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“No promises old man.” He says, and Batman and Red Hood spring into action.

**Author's Note:**

> some things mentioned, or maybe not mentioned
> 
> 1\. max is oracle bc fuck u  
> 2\. ShopRite, i realize not everyone would know what this is, but since gotham is in New Jersey state, makes sense they'd have jersey stores. ShopRite is the jersey grocery store, i hc tht he and his mom had one close to their apartment and he used to walk there with her  
> 3\. yes, dick and mary are dating bc i think its funny


End file.
